The Crippled God

soldiers set off to relay the commands.
    Aparal looked back at the gate. Hust. You came to meet her, beforeshe was across the threshold. Where, then, are my soldiers on the other side? Where – gods below – are the Hounds?
    In cascading streams of light, Yedan Derryg groped blindly. His sword’s laughter was slowly dying away. This was the real danger. Getting lost within Lightfall. But he’d seen little choice, and now he needed to return. One Hound remained. How many of his soldiers were dying even now? Whilst he stumbled blindly in this infernal light?
    He could feel the wound’s terrible pain, a vicious, biting thing, desperate to heal.
    Yedan halted. A wrong step now could take him on to the Liosan plain, facing tens of thousands of the enemy. And more dragons.
    Heavy, buffeting currents from behind him. He whirled.
    Something, coming through—
    The Hound exploded from the light.
    He dropped low into a crouch, blade slashing. Cutting through both front legs. The beast stumbled – he twisted and chopped down on its neck. The Hust blade sliced through, leapt out from under its throat with a delighted yelp. The head slammed into the ground at Yedan’s feet.
    He stood for a moment, staring down at it. Then he sheathed his sword, reached down. His back creaked as he strained to lift the head into his arms. He faced the direction the Hound had been heading and then, with a running start that spun him round, he heaved the head out into the light.
    Facing the opposite direction, he set off for the wound.
    Aparal’s eyes had been on the gate, and he was not alone in seeing the Hound’s severed head sailing out to thump and roll on the ground. Shouts of dismay and horror sounded on all sides.
    He stared in horror.
    It cannot be just one man. It cannot!
    A Hust legion waits for us. Hundreds of the cursed slayers, each one driven mad by their weapons. Nothing will stop them, nothing can defeat them .
    We cannot win this .
    Unblinking, he stared at the huge head, the empty eyes, and then he turned to the dying dragon. It had lurched up against the corpse of Iparth Erule. Had bitten into his rotting flank. But now the motions were slowing, losing that frenzied strength. Eldat, please die. Please .
    ‘Not long now,’ he whispered. Not long now .
    Waves of sorcery had pursued the Hound back to the wound, Pully and Skwish advancing behind them, clambering over corpses and torn-upsoldiers still in the process of dying. Pithy staggered in their wake. She’d taken a slash to her right shoulder and the bleeding wasn’t slowing. Her arm was sheathed in red, with thick threads draining from her fist. Colours were fast fading from the world.
    She saw Brevity leading a solid wedge of Letherii, coming up from the left flank. Where was the prince?
    And what was that thunder in the breach?
    Nearby was the carcass of a Hound, and nearer the breach another one of the horrid, giant beasts, still alive, still kicking where it lay on its side. Soldiers were closing on it, readying their pikes. Killing it was going to take some time.
    I’m so tired . All at once the strength left her legs and she sat down. Bad cut. A fang? A claw? I can’t remember – can’t twist round enough to see it. But at least the pain’s gone .
    ‘Captain!’
    Pithy looked down at the sword in her hand. Smiled. You did all right. You didn’t fail me. Where’s that girl? Need to tell her .
    ‘Someone get one of the witches! Quickly!’
    That voice was loud, almost right next to her ear, but it seemed muffled all the same. She saw Brevity running towards her now, but it was hard work, getting over all those bodies, and Pithy wondered if she’d arrive in time.
    In time for what? Oh. This .
    She settled, tried lying down, found herself cradled in someone’s arms.
    ‘Her back’s bitten half off! Where are the witches? ’
    ‘Spent.’
    ‘We need—’
    A roaring sound filling her head, Pithy looked down at her hand, the one holding the sword. She willed it to let go, but it refused. She frowned. But a moment later the frown faded. I understand. I am a soldier. Not a thief. Not a criminal. A soldier. And a soldier never lets go of the sword. Ever. You see it in their eyes .
    Can you see it in my eyes? I bet you can .
    It’s true. At last, it’s true. I was a soldier .
    Brevity was still ten paces away when she saw her friend die. She cried out, sagged down amidst the corpses. Crossing this killing field had been a nightmare, a passage of